


When Mommy meets Jesus tonight

by BlazeRiddle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Minor Character Death, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2695973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlazeRiddle/pseuds/BlazeRiddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the song <i>Christmas Shoes</i> by Bob Carlisle.<br/>Warning: Someone does die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Mommy meets Jesus tonight

**Author's Note:**

> A bit early, I know, but I don't really care.

The cold stung and Sherlock wrapped his old, trustworthy coat around himself tighter. He made his way through the Christmas shopping crowds and slipped into that one shop, the one place he needed to be.

 _Oh, Sherlock,_ Mommy had said, holding his hand and leaning heavily on her cane. _Just look at those. Next year, when we don't have to pay for the medication anymore, maybe I can buy those shoes for Christmas_. She'd smiled so brightly, before coughing so heavily that Sherlock had taken her home.

The shoes she'd pointed at were still there. They were much too classy for anything his mother would attend, but for once, an exception could be made. _After all, it was her last Christmas._ Sherlock blinked for a moment and set his jaw, focussing at keeping his emotions at bay. _Hurry._ Father had said as he'd shrugged into his coat. _If you- If you want to give her anything... There's not much time._ Sherlock had shrugged into his coat and left, rushing down the crowded streets.

He picked the shoes in the right size and made his way to the queue. Someone bumped into his back and he glanced back. Doctor, retired from the army. Spending Christmas alone, needs shoes because he's worn out the old ones. Sherlock shrugged to himself and turned back to the counter. While waiting, he rocked back and forth nervously. Did he have enough money? Was the job he managed to do for Lestrade enough? He sincerely hoped so.

"Yes?" The shopkeeper, a kind bald man who was having an affair with his shop maid, asked with a smile, and Sherlock stepped forward. "I want to buy these shoes." He said, placing them on the counter. "For my mother, please. It's Christmas eve, and these are just her size." He checked the old watch as he pulled out his rutty wallet. "Could you hurry, sir? Father said there's not much time." He checked the insides of his wallets while he talked, "You see, she's been sick for quite a while, and I know these shoes will make her smile." Sherlock smiled weakly. "I want her to look beautiful when mommy meets Jesus tonight." He allowed this stranger to see into his soul, hoped for a bit of discount, and turned the wallet upside down, letting the coins roll out, praying there would be enough. The man started counting.

"Sorry, son, there's not enough here." Sherlock panicked for a moment, searching his pockets and coming up with two more pennies. Not nearly enough. Desperate, he turned to the man behind him, pleading. "Mommy made Christmas good at our house, every year, most years she just did without a present herself. Tell me, sir, what can I do?" He was very nearly begging. "Somehow I've got to buy here these Christmas shoes."

The man smiled at him and pulled out his own wallet, taking out a few notes and placing them on the counter without saying a word. Then, he frowned, pulled out two cards and handed them to Sherlock.

"If you want to, call those numbers." His voice was kind like rich honey, and the kindness made him blush.

"Th-thank you." He stammered. The doctor smiled again.

"Go. You said there isn't much time."

And Sherlock went. He rushed home with the shoes, and told the story to his parents. His mother smiled brightly at it.

She looked beautiful when she met Jesus that night.


End file.
